Chapter 63
Friday afternoon, we were sitting with Grover at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall.
Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten us. Our shirts had smoking holes in them. The hairs on our forearms had been singed off.
We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, until we got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D.
His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.
"Fine," he said. "Just great." "So your career's still on track?"
He glanced at us nervously. "Chiron t-told you both I want a searcher's license?"
"Well . . . no." We had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask. "He just said you had big plans, you know . . . and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?"
Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you guys yet, so our fates are still tied together. If you guys got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, than maybe he'd consider the job complete."
Our spirits lifted. "Well, that's not so bad, right?"
"Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you guys getting a quest . . . and even if you guys did, why would you want me along?"
"Of course we'd want you along!
Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving . . . Must be nice to have a useful skill."
We tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. We talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, we asked him about the four empty cabins.
"Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad."
"Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end.
Are those the Big Three?"
Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject.
"No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos."
"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades."
"Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what."
"Zeus got the sky," We remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld."
"Uh-huh."
"But Hades doesn't have a cabin here."
"No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here . . ." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that."
"But Zeus and Poseidon-----they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?"
Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. About sixty years ago, after World War 2, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War 2, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They swore on the River Styx."
Thunder boomed.
We said. "That's the most serious oath you can make."
Grover nodded.